


Grisaille

by strawberryfinn



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Angst, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Lawyers, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con References, Trials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfinn/pseuds/strawberryfinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when nobody believes you except for the one person who shouldn't? Niall doesn't even know what's real anymore. The person he always thought he could count on has hurt him, and he might be falling for the enemy.</p><p>An AU where Niall, Zayn, and Harry are students at an American university, Louis is a lawyer, and Liam is his aide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grisaille

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any members of One Direction. This story is purely fictional. I know very little about law, but I'm trying to do research and make it as accurate as possible.

**_February 17, 2017_ **

Louis readjusts his tie for the tenth time and studies his reflection in the mirror. There's nothing in his teeth. His hair is swept off his face so the jury can see his eyes: stormy like ocean waves, but honest. Prepared. He only hopes that Max is a little less prepared, but he knows it's a long shot. It's a trial day and everyone has everything he needs at this point. Louis's done everything he can.

He dries his hands, pretending not to notice that they're shaking, and steps outside. Liam greets him almost instantly, hands him a Starbucks coffee, and Louis accepts it gratefully. It's his trial day drink: a cappuccino with a teaspoon of sugar. Non-trial days, Louis sticks with his espresso macchiatos. It's not that Louis's that superstitious—he does have faith in his abilities—but in a case like this that hits this close to home, it's not a bad idea to pull out all the extra stops. He had had a cappuccino on the day of his first trial, and he'd won, so may as well not try to mix with the juju.

“Louis, you should eat.” Liam's voice is firm, but he's not pushy. He hands Louis a packaged sandwich—a croissant with turkey and lettuce and tomato—that doesn't look half bad, but it's trial day, and Louis can hardly keep his coffee down, let alone actual food. He shouldn't be that nervous, he knows, but he's up against Max George. _Max George_ who had handed Louis his defeat on a platter, who was famous for being a damn good defense attorney.

“I'm good. Had my Cheerios,” Louis replies flatly, and Liam's shoulders sink. Liam looks a little worse for the wear himself, chocolate-colored eyes ringed with fatigue and forehead creased with lines of worry. His thick eyebrows are knitted in the middle of his forehead.

“How are they holding up?” Liam asks carefully, taking the sandwich back from Louis, and Louis eyes Zayn, Harry, and Niall where they're seated in plastic chairs against the wall. Niall looks paler than usual, somehow even more defeated than the first time Louis met him five months ago. His suit seems to swallow up his slim body, slender face and hollowed eyes peeking out from his white button-up and tie. His shorn hair is slicked back, and he's worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. The skin on his bottom lip splits, and Louis can see his fingers physically trembling.

Harry's fingers slip into his grasp, linking around Niall's shaking hands, while Zayn places a hand on Niall's knee, gripping it firmly. Louis watches them on either side of Niall, feeling as though he's watching a transfer of power. Niall's absorbing courage and strength from them, and Louis thinks he'll need it, considering what he's about to go through. Louis only hopes that it'll be enough to get them all through this trial.

The heels of his shoes clack against the tile floor as he walks over to them. Zayn looks up at Louis with guarded eyes under thick eyelashes, hiding his lips twisted into a grimace, and Harry looks impossibly young, curly nest of hair tamed somewhat and slicked into a more appropriate hairstyle. His grasp on Niall's fingers is so tight that his knuckles are white.

“How are you feeling?” Louis asks softly, and when Zayn scoffs, he shakes his head in apology. “Sorry, that was a stupid question. I just—are you ready?” 

“If I said no, would it make a difference?” Niall replies, and his voice is low and ridden with nerves. A shadow of a smile lingers on his face, and Louis swallows.

He doesn't answer the question because they all already know the answer, but instead leans forward to squeeze Niall's shoulder. He straightens Niall's tie, and promises, “It'll all be over soon.”

_________________________________________

**_September 8—September 9, 2013_ **

**11:57 pm**

Tom's hands are drifting under the threadbare line of Niall's top now, fingers digging into the sensitive skin, skirting over his soft belly. He licks a line up the column of Niall's pale neck, and Niall revels in the attention, craning his head back so he can meet his boyfriend's lips in a hungry kiss.

“You don't know what you do to me,” Tom mumbles, slipping one hand into the waistline of Niall's pants. Niall can feel the hardness of Tom's erection against his backside. “Christ, Ni, love you.”

Something in Niall's stomach churns, but he ignores it. Lets Tom touch him on the dance floor, and buries himself in the feeling of being wanted.

**12:14 am**

There's alcohol pulsing through his veins that should make his mind groggy and muddled, eliminating all inhibitions, but Niall's embarrassed. He likes being desirable—thrives on the feeling of being loved and likes pleasing Tom, likes that his boyfriend's currently got a possessive grip on him—but he's aware now that people are looking. People are staring at them, especially now that both of Tom's hands are down the front of Niall's pants, coaxing him into hardness.

Niall's not a voyeur, he's not one for exhibitionism. Everything he's done up this point with Tom has been in the quiet privacy of a bedroom, and he doesn't like the eyes on him, because he's only given Tom permission to see him.

“Let's get out of here,” he says, pulling Tom's hands out of his pants. “Please,” he repeats, voice more desperate when Tom whines in protest, and tries to unzip Niall's pants in the middle of the dance floor—where everyone can see them.

“Come on,” he croons, bringing his voice to a low, seductive tone, and under the strobe lights, he can see the fine line of Tom's eyelashes, “I'll make it up to you.” 

His stomach rolls, and he can't blame it solely on the alcohol, but he just wants to get out of there.

Tom's lips quirk up at the promise, and under the lights, his smile is wolfish.

**12:17 am**

They're up in Tom's room in the fraternity house, and Niall's incredibly grateful that Tom's roommate is downstairs enjoying the party so that the room is theirs. It's partly because he's on his knees, sucking Tom down his throat. Niall's never really liked giving blowjobs, but he likes making his boyfriend happy, likes seeing him unraveled, and he _owes_ him, right?

Tom comes with a shout, and his grip tightens in Niall's hair to the point where it's almost painful. His breathing is labored, and Niall swallows obediently, though he can't help but grimace slightly at the bitter taste. Tom crooks Niall's chin up, fingers splaying over the paleness of his neck, and smiles at him sweetly.

“How about I take care of you now?” he slurs, and Niall nods.

**12:30 am**

Tom's sheets are soft against his back, and Niall's knees part as Tom settles in between his legs. He nips lightly at Niall's inner thigh, eyes dark as Niall shudders in anticipation.

“Hi sweetheart,” his boyfriend croons, and even in the dark, Niall can make out his hazel eyes, his sandy brown hair swept off his face, chiseled jawline. 

“I... you gonna,” Niall mumbles vaguely, peeking downwards almost embarrassedly at his swollen erection, and then flickers his gaze up to Tom's thin lips, and Tom smiles. “Please, your mouth.”

“Anything for you, babe,” Tom says, and he leans forward to meet Niall's lips in a sweltering hot kiss. Niall parts his lips to allow his boyfriend's tongue to slide into his mouth, legs jerking desperately at the friction of Tom's naked body rubbing against his, the feel of his boyfriend's scruff scratching against his cheek.

“Wha—please, don't tease,” Niall almost begs, cheeks flaming, when the kiss breaks off, and Tom's grin grows wider.

“Don't worry, darlin'. Think I have a good idea,” Tom whispers, and he's reaching under his mattress to pull out a bottle of lube and a packaged condom.

Niall freezes, fear coiling through his body, and closes his legs.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. Thank you to irishnamesandpaperplanes, rorycroft, and especially aguantare for all of the help.


End file.
